


Jump On In

by CupcakeGirlA



Category: Diving RPF, Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Speed Skating RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Apolo didn’t become a short track speed skater? What if his life took a different path?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump On In

Apolo stretches out his back and shoulders, bending down to touch his toes. He bounces, feeling the pull in his spine, and the backs of his legs. When he stands up he takes a deep calming breath. Reaching down he tugs his Speedo into the proper place, tightening the strings at the front and tucking them down into his suit. He turns to look at JR.

 

The kid looks nervous, unsure about this. He’s tying and retying the strings to his own suit repeatedly. Fidgeting. But Apolo tries to smile reassuringly at him.

 

“Stop freaking out. We got this!” he says it like it’s a done deal, employing all his usual confidence and casual bravado. JR rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s my first National competition. I’m allowed to freak out,” JR says. Apolo reaches over tugging the kid’s hands away from his crotch.

 

“You’re going to break the strings and then we’d really be fucked. Just close your eyes. Take a deep breath. We go third. We have plenty of time to get psyched up, but only if we start now.” JR sighs. His gaze rolls across the deck to the crowd of spectators already beginning to shout and stomp their feet.

 

“I don’t know if I can do this…” JR says quietly. Apolo tugs him around the corner, out of sight.

 

“You have to do this. We’ve been training for months. It’s just a competition. You’ve competed before.” JR nods in understanding.

 

“But not at a National event with a new partner. What was I thinking? I should have stayed in Seattle or gone to college like my parents wanted. Why did I respond to that stupid call to come try-out?” JR says, mostly to himself, clearly freaking out. He starts to hyperventilate, and Apolo forces him to bend over at the waist.

 

“Breathe, Celski! You have to get it together! We don’t have time for this shit! Now you are going to stop freaking out, and take some long deep breaths, and get ready to go out there. Because _you_ are my new partner. And I am not going to break in someone new, _again_. I’ve worked too damn hard to get you to point your fucking toes correctly to start over with some other hotshot kid who thinks he knows everything. We are going to go out there, and we are going to win. Do you hear me?” he asks. He’s hissing in JR’s ear, low so no one else can hear. JR nods, taking a deep calming breath and then another. And he does, and they do. They win it. They win it all.

 

Apolo doesn’t know it yet, but this is about to become their pre-competition routine for every meet over the next three years. But hey, if it gets the job done...

 

 

At 12, Apolo Anton Ohno is faced with a dilemma. A very real, very heartbreaking dilemma. He has to choose what to give up. For most kids there is one sport that they discover a real love for. One thing they were really good at or really enjoyed. For Apolo every sport is a challenge. Every game something new to learn and embrace wholeheartedly. He throws himself into one thing after another, with boundless energy and enthusiasm. Yuki, of course, encourages this behavior. If Apolo is busy with sports he is supervised, focused, challenging himself, and staying active. For a single working Dad, sports are a great babysitter, and a great way to ensure that Apolo is not falling prey to the negative influences he faces daily at school and out and about in the neighborhood.

 

But sports are expensive. There are training costs, coaching, equipment, travel. There is a time commitment and monetary commitment required for each activity and for Yuki there are just too many things to keep up. He sits  Apolo down in their small dining room table. He tells his son that he loves him. That he wants to keep him in sports, keep him active, but they have to pare things down a bit. Apolo has to choose just two to stick with. Apolo nods. He understands. He knows his Dad gets up at like 4am every day. He sees how hard his dad works, the long hours, how hard it has been for him to make it to every single competition and meet. So Apolo agrees. His father leaves him to think about it, and goes to fix dinner. While Yuki cooks, Apolo sits at the table, swinging his feet under the table and considering his options.

 

He likes soccer. It’s fun to play on a team, different from the rest of his activities really, but it’s not as fast or competitive as some of his other sports, and the season is so short. If he has to drop anything, soccer seems like the first on his list to ditch. That leaves three real contenders on the list. Apolo bites his lower lip comparing and contrasting the three options in his head.

 

There’s inline, which he’s been doing for ages. It’s all speed, and burning legs, and real competitions. He’s good. Really good. Already an age group National champion. He can’t imagine giving it up. Besides there’s a lot of cool kids who skate inline, and it’s local, which is a plus.

 

He considers Short Track speedskating. He’s only been on ice a few months, but he loves it. It’s so fast, and smooth. It’s as fast and exciting as inline, only more dangerous. But, he realizes it’s also really expensive. He thinks about the long treks up to Vancouver each week, and the price for new blades, the expensive boots he’ll need to replace soon, already his first pair are getting tight and uncomfortable.

 

But then there’s swimming, which is competitive in a different way. It’s him versus the other guys in the pool, but also him versus the clock. He’s already an age group champion in swimming. He sees a future there. It might not be the most exciting sport in the world, but for Apolo there was something infinitely satisfying in touching the wall first, or in getting a personal best time.

 

He sits at the dining room table and he thinks about all of this for the entire time it takes his dad to cook dinner. And when the plate of rice and vegetables is put in front of him, Apolo has made his decision.

 

“I want to stay at Pattinson’s and I want to swim,” he announces midway through dinner. Yuki studies him carefully before nodding and going back to his own meal. He had asked Apolo to choose, and Apolo had done as asked. He isn’t about to argue and he never wonders what if.

 

 

Apolo is good in the pool. He doesn’t mind long hours staring at the bottom of the pool, or in the weight room lifting. He enjoys the tranquility of the water. He thinks it gives him an inner peace he wouldn’t have found otherwise. It helps that he’s fast. He’s got strong arms and a good back. But his legs, the result of his inline skating and love of biking, give him a great kick. His underwater dolphin is one of the best on the West Coast. He competes and he wins a fair amount of the time. Apolo enters high school with dreams of making the Olympic team in 2000 and competing at NCAA meets during his years as a college swimmer. He’s good enough. He could get there. He’s sure of it.

 

What Apolo does not consider, what doesn’t even cross his mind, is that he is really fucking short. At 16 he stands at only 5’5” and that’s at least half a foot shorter than most of his competition. His arms and legs are proportionally shorter too. This begins to become an issue. By the time he’s a Junior he’s added only another inch or two and suddenly he’s losing races because he’s getting out touched. It’s not that his competition is faster than him, they’re simply longer. They have a longer reach than he does. They have to take fewer strokes than he does. It’s frustrating as hell, to know he has to be that much faster just to keep up. That it is genetics, not ability or commitment that is making the difference. He loves to swim. He likes pushing himself every day, likes the routine of training and competing. He briefly considers quitting swimming the summer before his Senior year, but fate has other plans.

 

It’s a typical day at the pool. They’ve done their dryland training, and weight room lifting. The coaches are down on the other end of the pool working with the freestylers when Apolo gets dared to do it. At first he’s sure he can’t go through with it. That it’s the stupidest idea on the planet. But a dare is a dare. Apolo simply doesn’t ever back down from a dare. So he climbs out of the pool, walks to the other end of the warm down pool and taking a deep breath starts to climb. 10 meters is really freaking high. Once at the top he clings to the rail, afraid to go out any further on the diving platform. That’s when the calls of “Chicken!” and “Scaredy Cat!” reach his ears. Buoyed by the taunts, he stands up tall, and pushes back his shoulders. Taking another deep breath he walks to the edge of the concrete platform and putting his hands over his head, leans forward, and dives.

 

It’s like time slows down to a crawl. For Apolo, the few seconds it takes to enter the water hands first seem to take forever. He feels himself falling but it feels more like he’s flying. The wind whips through his hair, and he can feel the resistance on his arms, shoulders, thighs. He straightens his body line, correcting instinctively. When he hits the water, it feels like he’s a human torpedo, cutting through the water like a knife. He even points his toes. He rolls underwater, coming up to the surface gasping for air, his body humming with exhilaration. He swims to the side of the pool, anxious to do it again as soon as physically possible. He’s so focused on the task at hand that he doesn’t even notice his coach yelling at him as he makes for the platform again. He stops only at the sight of the guy leaning against the ladder blocking his way. He’s watching Apolo intently, his face unreadable. Apolo recognizes him as the diving coach, and freezes, sure he’s about to be yelled at.

 

“Have fun?” the coach asks. Apolo smiles brilliantly back at him.

 

“That was amazing. Can I do it again?” he asks, pushing his wet bangs back off his forehead. The man smirks, a knowing look spreading across his face.

  
“I think that can be arranged.”

 

 

Diving becomes Apolo’s life. He still inline skates for fun, but he stops competing, it takes too much time away from flying. In diving it’s all about finding perfection. Getting your body to do exactly what you want it to do in precisely the way you want it to do it. It’s about angles and perfect lines. About how high you can jump, and how many rotations you can get. It’s about minimizing your entry splash, and being so calm inside that it shows even on the outside. He loves it. Everything about it.

 

 

Apolo watches the diving competition at the Sydney Olympics in 2000 from his Dad’s living room floor. He watches wide-eyed as dive after dive is performed (pre-recorded) on his TV screen. His face lights up when he sees the synchronized diving. It’s new that year to the Olympics and he immediately wants to try it out for himself. He vows right then that no matter what he would be there next time, at the Athens games in 2004. And he is. But he doesn’t medal. Apolo places 8th in the springboard and 5th in the platform events. But he’s not the type to let something like a little disappoint stop him from pursuing his dream. There’s always Beijing.

 

 

 “You are not getting a tattoo!” Apolo says. He’s staring at JR in slack-jawed horror. JR rolls his eyes. It’s a habit that is slowly driving Apolo insane. They’ve been partners for a year now, and you’d think that at the age of 20, JR would be showing a bit more maturity than this.

 

“I can get a tattoo if I want one. My brothers and I are all getting it done. This really isn’t any of your concern!” he replies, hands on his hips. Apolo gasps in shock.

 

“Are you kidding me!? Of course this is my concern. We’re synchronized divers. We have the same height, the same build, the same skin tone, and the same hair color for a reason! We are supposed to look alike. You cannot get a huge ass black tattoo covering half of your chest!” Apolo protests. JR’s eyes squint closed in a glower.

 

“First of all I am a full inch taller than you. Secondly it’s my body. I can alter it however I want. And if the two of us looking identical is so damn important than why is it okay for you to have that ugly ass thing on your chin, despite what Hotaka and I think about it?” JR asks. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Apolo stares at him. He reaches up to run a hand over his soul patch. He’d been growing it continuously since he was 19 and had finally been able to produce facial hair. He frowns.

 

“I didn’t know you hated it so much,” he says softly before turning around and walking away. JR frowns after him.

 

“APOLO!?” he calls. But Apolo doesn’t respond. Just packs up his bag and leaves the pool deck. JR watches him go, annoyed and angry and perturbed. Hotaka walks over shaking his head.

 

“You knew he would respond like this. I don’t know why you purposefully antagonize him, JR,” he says, his tone slightly amused and slightly condemning. JR sighs.

 

“He’s fun to prod. I like seeing him get all flustered. Besides he needs to stop acting like he has some kind of authority over me. I know I’m 8 years younger than him. He doesn’t have to throw it in my face every single day!” JR explains. “He’s just always so damn serious and anxious over stupid crap!” Hotaka sighs.

 

“You are showing your age when you respond like this. What you need to realize JR is that this is his third Olympic games. His last Olympic games. It is the swan song of his career. He is already old for a diver. Two years from now he will be ancient for a diver. He wants to win. You are his best chance at achieving this goal. Of course he is serious and anxious. Cut him some damn slack would you?” Hotaka requests. JR glares at the still water of the pool, but nods.

 

“I guess. He just drives me crazy!” he replies. Hotaka shrugs.

 

“He is Apolo. He drives us all crazy. It is part of his charm. Besides you know I would never allow you to get such a horrendous tattoo. When your career is over you can do what you like. But when I am coach, my word is law. No tattoos!” Hotaka proclaims, turning and walking away, clipboard in hand. JR rolls his eyes staring at the water for a few minutes longer before standing to head back to the locker room to shower and change.

 

 

The next morning, Apolo is late to the pool. This is an anomaly. JR and Hotaka wait for a full ten minutes before Hotaka throws his hands up and orders JR up onto the spring board to do singles practice. JR is just climbing out of the pool for the third time when Apolo finally shows up. He strolls onto the pool deck, acting nonchalant and smiling a big wide fake smile. JR’s jaw drops, his eyes going wide.

 

“Holy shit,” he mutters. Hotaka stalks over to them at the pools edge, ready to yell at Apolo for making them wait. But he too freezes when he sees Apolo up close. Apolo frowns, looking from one to the other and back again.

 

“What?” he asks. JR shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

 

“What did you do!?” JR asks. Hotaka steps closer, leaning in for a better look. He grips Apolo by his now bare chin and turns his face one way then the other. Apolo lets him, his eyes locked on Hotaka’s face waiting for a reaction. Hotaka hums, leaning back and studying his face. He shakes his head, frowning at Apolo. Then he reaches over and slaps JR in the back of his head.

 

“You fix this. This is your fault! Practice is cancelled for today!” Hotaka announces. He looks at Apolo like he’s a complete stranger. “You come back tomorrow with chin hairs intact, or no diving!” he turns then, walking away and muttering loudly to himself in Japanese. JR crosses his arms over his chest and watches him go. Then he turns to Apolo.

 

“Did you understand any of what he just said?” he asks. Apolo laughs.

 

“Something about fools and idiots, I think,” he scrunches his forehead up, reaching up with one hand to tug on his soul patch. But the hair isn’t there to tug, and his fingers grasp at nothing. He frowns, smoothing his fingers over the smooth skin instead. JR takes a step away from him.

 

“Dude, I can’t believe you did that,” JR says. He stares at Apolo with equal parts intrigue and horror. “You look so weird without it!” Apolo shrugs. He folds his own arms across his chest.

 

“I thought this is what you wanted,” he says trailing off and looking down at the concrete between his feet. JR frowns harder shaking his head.

 

“I didn’t tell you shave it off. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. You should grow it back, unless you like it better this way,” JR says, but his frown at the notion shows his feelings on the matter. He turns to grab his towel and water bottle, heading for the locker room. Apolo follows behind him.

 

“But you had a point. If I’m going to say you can’t have a tattoo that means I can’t have anything that makes me stand out either,” he shrugs and JR rolls his eyes. Apolo follows him to his locker, watching him pull out his clothes and sneakers.

 

“I wasn’t seriously considering the tattoo, Apolo. I was just trying to rile you up,” he says, stripping off his Speedo. Apolo plops down on the bench beside him, reaching into his own locker to retrieve his bag.

 

“Why would you do that?” Apolo asks. JR shrugs, wrapping a towel around his waist and looking down at Apolo.

 

“Because it’s fun. And because sometimes you take yourself and this whole diving thing entirely too seriously,” JR says. Apolo shakes his head.

 

“You’re young. You have years ahead of you in this sport, JR. You don’t understand what this means to me,” he’s cut off by JR’s glare.

 

“Don’t tell me how I do or don’t feel! Or how important going to London is! I’ve wanted this for a long time, Apolo. I’ve worked my ass off for it. I’ve moved away from my parents and put my college education on hold for it. I want to go and I want to win just as much as you do. God, I hate it when you do this!” he growls, slamming his locker door closed.

 

“Do what exactly?” Apolo asks, looking up at JR from his spot sitting on the bench.

 

“Act like just because you’re older than me, that I’m just some kid who doesn’t know anything. I’m 20 years old, Apolo. I’ve chosen this. I’ve dedicated my whole life to go to the games!”

 

“Not like I have, JR! This has been my sole pursuit for the last 12 years!” Apolo argues.

 

“Oh come on, Apolo! It’s the same old fight with you. Just because I haven’t given up having a personal life doesn’t mean I haven’t sacrificed to pursue the same dream you have! And personally I think you could do with a little distraction in your life right now,” JR says. Apolo frowns again, looking confused. JR sighs. “Apolo when is the last time you got laid?” JR asks. He puts his hands on his towel clad hips, and stares down at Apolo. Apolo’s jaw drops open in shock at the question.

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asks defensively. JR smiles a little at him.

 

“See!? Can you even remember the last time?” he asks. Apolo glowers at him.

 

“Of course I remember the last time!” Apolo replies. JR smirks at him.

 

“Ugh huh. Look, Apolo, I kid you because you need the relief having a fight with me gives you. It would be a lot easier if you would just go out and go fuck some girl, or let some boy fuck you. Either way it would be great stress relief and would leave you feeling a lot calmer and generally happier.” Apolo blinks at him.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks. JR sighs, turning away and heading for the shower. Apolo jumps up and follows after him. “I don’t have time for a relationship, JR. You know how crazy our lives are right now,” he says. He stands in the doorway to the shower area, as JR drops his towel, hanging it on a hook and turning on the shower. Third from the right. It was the one that had the best pressure in the entire locker room. He grins at Apolo over his shoulder.

 

“I don’t believe I said anything about a relationship,” he says with a smirk, ducking his head under the pounding water.

 

“I’m not one for one-night-stands, JR,” Apolo says. JR pulls his head out of the spray.

 

“What?!” he calls. Apolo throws his hands up and leaves the showers. He shakes his head and goes to change out of his still dry suit. He doesn’t see the thoughtful look on JR’s face as he reaches for the shampoo. Apolo’s tying his shoes when JR reappears, dripping wet and flushed red from the showers hot water.

 

“Are you still pouting?” JR asks, scrubbing at his hair. Apolo rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m not pouting, JR. I did this because I thought you wanted me too. Because I care about what you and Hotaka think. Apparently you don’t _really_ hate it. You just like picking at me because it’s fun.” He yanks his other shoe on and ducks down to tie it. When he stands up, JR charges him. He uses his bigger height and correspondingly higher body weight to press Apolo back into the row of lockers. “What the? JR!” Apolo cries.  

 

“Shut up! I do hate it. It’s pretentious and it makes you look arrogant. But it’s your thing. It’s a part of you. And I happen to like you the way that you are. In case you haven’t noticed I’ve kind of got a huge boner for you. I have since way before we became partners. It’s part of the reason I tried out to be your partner. I want to be with you. You need to get your head out of the pool more often and I can help with that. So I want you to grow it back. And as a reward for when you do, you’ll get to have me. We have plenty of time for a relationship with each other. We couldn’t spend much more time with each other even if we tried.” JR presses close like he’s going to kiss Apolo, who stares at him in shock, wide-eyed. But he pauses a fraction of an inch away. He pulls back shaking his head. “Sorry. I just can’t kiss you for the first time without that thing on your chin. It just wouldn’t feel right,” he says. Apolo blinks from his place still pressed to the locker as JR ducks away, toweling dry and getting dressed. He watches with unblinking eyes as JR slides on his shoes and finger combs his hair. Then JR turns back to face him, where he still stands unmoving against the lockers.

 

“I don’t understand you,” Apolo says. “I really don’t. I don’t even know how to react to the last 24 fucking hours! It’s like you’re suddenly a completely different person…” Apolo says trialing off. JR smirks at him.

 

“You see that’s part of the problem. You think you know what is going on in my head. But you don’t. I think it’s time you realized and accepted that. And then maybe we can become the very best male synchro diving team in the world. As it stands now, you don’t see me as an equal, Apolo. If you want to win in London you need to see me as your partner, in all things. Not as your student and not as some kid. We could be great together. You can’t tell me we wouldn’t be.” JR leaves the room without waiting for a response.

 

 

The year after the 2004 Athens games is a bad one. Apolo and Hotaka start searching for his first synchronized diving partner, and one day during platform singles practice he get’s injured. In all honesty his foot slips. It’s a silly amateur mistake. One he’s been warned about a thousand times. He’s standing on the platform, 10 meters up in the air, and he gets distracted. He’s talking to a buddy down on the ground, joking around, laughing about something stupid. He’s not doing anything reckless, he just isn’t pay attention like he should be. His foot slides on the wet concrete and he falls hard into the water at a bad angle. Nothing is broken but he practically belly flops. He lands twisted, his left arm yanked hard back behind his body at an angle that the human body is not meant to move in. His shoulder is dislocated.

 

One trip to the hospital, some x-rays, and a painful reduction later, and he’s sent home. His arm is in a sling for almost two weeks, and he’s half-covered in bruises. It is weeks before he can lift his arm up over his head without it paining him, and that’s followed by 2 months of physical therapy. There’s never the danger of his career being over. He doesn’t need surgery and he has a prognosis of a full recovery. But it scares him. He’s kept off the springboard and the platform for months. When he’s able, Hotaka has him swimming laps. This has two purposes to help him to stay fit, and to keep him from going completely stir crazy without being in the water. There’s careful handling of his shoulder for the next 6 months and a lingering ache that never really goes away. It scares him how fragile his body suddenly seems. He hates being kept from diving like he wants too. It’s like a compulsion. He can’t imagine a time where he doesn’t get up and dive every day. It’s part of who he is. It’s 2005. He’s 23 years old and his career is already half over. It’s a wakeup call. He has limited time to train his body to be what he wants it to be. What he knows it can be. To do what he knows he is capable of accomplishing. There are three years to Beijing, and no time to waste. He pushes down his own insecurities and goes back to the pool to get ready to try again to achieve his dream.

 

 

There’s a connection between JR and Apolo from the very first time they dive together. Hotaka has them climb to the top of the 10m platform. The dive he has them do is simple, a double summersault, no twist. It’s about as easy as dives come. They know JR can do it, probably without even blinking. That’s not the point. They want to see how synchronized the two of them are. How they respond to each other midair. If their body shapes are similar in the air and if there’s any potential for them as a synchronized men’s pair.

 

Apolo climbs the ladder first, JR following behind. When they get to the top, they share a look. Apolo’s is appraising, JR’s is nervous. But they both nod at each other.

 

“Five count?’ Apolo suggests. JR nods. Apolo starts a slow steady count quietly, and with each number they take controlled steps forward. At five, they launch themselves off the edge of the platform, tucking into two balls flipping 2 ½ times each, and straightening out to dive into the water as straightly vertical as possible.

 

Apolo comes up smiling, and hears Hotaka shouting in happiness from the side of the pool. He and JR share a grin, swimming to the side of the diving pool to climb out. Hotaka hugs them both, still cheering. He drags them to the side of the pool, where they watch the video feed of the dive. They’re nearly perfect in their take off, JR a half second behind in his jump, a small secondary bounce in his last step causing the problem. JR’s faster to get his arms around his knees than Apolo, but he doesn’t point his toes correctly at the entry. Overall they’ve done very well. Their body lines are near exact, their body types a perfect fit for each other. Apolo feels exhilarated, and he bounces on his feet at the news. He looks at JR, sees the exhilaration in his face too, and without being prompted they’re racing for the ladder to climb up and do it again. 

 

It’s as they’re sailing through the air in their second dive that it sinks in. Apolo’s found his new dive partner. And even if JR stubbornly refuses to point his toes correctly, Apolo knows they’re going to be great together.

 

 

When Apolo is in Beijing, for the 2008 Olympic Games, he is very very focused on his particular competition schedule. He doesn’t waste much time thinking about the other sports going on around him. But the swimmer in him can’t help but pay attention to what’s going on in the main pool. The feats being accomplished by Michael Phelps, by all of the Team USA swimmers, are to say the least, inspiring. It doesn’t help that they are technically the same team he himself is on and that they were housed in the same part of the USA dorms. He can’t get away from them really. Not that it’s all bad.

 

There are some really great guys on the team. He’d been shocked as all hell to run into Nathan Adrian at the USA Swimming and Diving Team Media Day. Nathan is six years younger than him and about a full foot taller. But Apolo still remembers him from his days as a “real” swimmer. When Apolo had made the switch at 17 to diving, Nathan had been making waves as an age-grouper. 11 years old and breaking records in the same pools Apolo had frequented. It had been like having a flashback to see him again, only he was all grown up and at his first Olympics. Nathan’s much younger than him, but there’s something comforting about having a familiar face from back home to share the experience with. There are other familiar faces on the team too. People he’d swum against as a teenager. Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, Aaron Piersol, and Eric Shanteau, just to name a few.

 

There usually isn’t much mingling between divers and swimmers. They’re so often grouped together, but in reality there’s like this huge wall between the two that isn’t easily climbed over. But Apolo, as always, is special. He was a swimmer long enough to be remembered, and he’s still on good terms with a lot of the swimmers. That Nathan has taken a renewed liking to him and keeps inviting him along does a lot for his reputation, so he’s mostly accepted by the rest of the swimmers on the team. Teddy, Apolo’s synchro partner, is another story. He’s universally disliked by pretty much everyone.

 

Teddy is kind of an asshole. He’s 3 inches taller than Apolo and never lets him forget it. He’s also one of those rich spoiled guys that doesn’t like being told “No.” Apolo and Teddy became partners in 2005, and as much as Apolo disliked the guy right off the bat, if he wanted to compete in Beijing in synchro he didn’t have time to find someone else. They coexisted by keeping their distance from each other outside of the pool deck, avoiding each other at all costs. This wasn’t exactly good team building. It’s kind of the exact opposite relationship you are supposed to have with your diving partner. So Apolo’s a bit surprised therefore when the two of them manage to medal at the games in synchronized platform during the first week of competition. A bronze isn’t exactly the color Apolo wanted but he’ll take what he can get. Teddy doesn’t see things in quite the same light.

 

“I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life preparing for this just to place third,” Teddy says, throwing his medal into his nightstand drawer, and slamming it closed. Apolo watches with a kind of shock, as Teddy does so. He carefully folds the ribbon of his own medal, putting it away in its box, and stowing it away in the inside pocket of his suitcase. He’s ok with a bronze. It’s a medal at least. He’d been hoping for something better but it’s only the first of four competitions for the two weeks of the games. They have time to improve. He sits down on his adjacent bed, trying to ignore Teddy’s grumbling from the other end of their shared dorm room. They’d have preferred to not room together, but the USOC had made the room assignments.

 

“There’s always synchro springboard on Wednesday. Stop being such a pessimist,” Apolo says. He’s trying to be helpful, encouraging. Teddy doesn’t take it that way.

 

“I’m not being a pessimist. I’m being a realist. We got third. And it’s your fault!” Teddy shouts. Apolo blinks at him.

 

“I’m sorry, did you just say it was my fault?” Apolo asks, arms folded across his chest.

 

“Yes, I did! I watched the replay. You bent your knees on dive 4,” Teddy accuses. Apolo’s jaw drops.

 

“Are you kidding me!?” he asks. “We lost Gold by 15 points, Teddy. Bent knees on one of six dives is not the reason we lost. You are not going to blame this all on me!” he replies. Teddy glares at him.

 

“Yes I am!” he snaps. “I knew you weren’t gold medal material the moment I met you. I should have known better than to choose you for my partner,” he growls.

 

“You’re an asshole, Teddy. You’ve always been an asshole. But if you want to talk mistakes and point fingers maybe you should reexamine today’s dives. Because it wasn’t me who failed to point his toes, not once, not twice, but three separate times. We’re damn lucky that Russian diver practically belly flopped, because we only beat them by one point!” Apolo yells. He storms from the room, slamming the door closed behind himself. When he gets back to the dorm later that night, Teddy’s side of the room is completely cleared out. Hotaka is fuming the next morning at practice, but Teddy shows up and does his job. But he avoids looking at Apolo, and neither of them say a word to each other the whole day. The next day at the 3m Springboard final, they place dead last, in 8th position. Later, after the games are over, when Teddy announces his retirement, Apolo is really sort of happy. That is until it takes almost a year to find a new partner.

 

 

The Beijing games don’t end for Apolo after their terrible showing in synchronized springboard. He has two more competitions to participate in: singles springboard and the singles platform. He has more work to do. But no matter how much he tries to get it together he doesn’t do as well as he knows he can. On the second Tuesday of the games he competes in the men’s springboard finals. He places fourth. He makes stupid mistakes and he knows it’s his own damn fault. He lets what Teddy said get to him. Lets it go to his head. He loses focus halfway through the competition and so he really has no one to blame but himself. He goes back to the dorms feeling down and a bit depressed. He wants to go to his room and try and just relax, but what he finds when he leaves the elevator is a party that has taken over most of his floor in the USA dorms.

 

Apolo picks his way through the crowded hallways, filled with loud music, and to his surprise, drunken dancing. His dorm, still blessedly empty, sits at the end of the hall. He manages to make it all the way down to his door before getting stopped.

 

“’Polo!” Nathan says, throwing an arm around Apolo’s shoulder. “How’d you do? I meant to come watch you dive tonight but I got side-tracked!” he says loudly, giggling a bit. Apolo can smell the alcohol on the kid’s breath from a full foot away.

 

“I lost,” he says to Nathan, digging out his room key and getting the door unlocked. He steps inside, not wanting to talk about it. Nathan follows, leaning in the open doorway and watching Apolo set down his gear. He’s frowning.

 

“You lost?” he asks. “But… you’re like the best diver ever!?” he says, slurring the words. Apolo laughs shaking his head.

 

“I came in fourth,” Apolo informs him, turning away to dig through his bag. He doesn’t have to compete again until Friday for the platform prelims. It’s only Tuesday. He decides to air out the chlorine smell in his bag. Nathan squints, watching him dump out the bag on Teddy’s old bed, leaving the top open, and spreading out the contents.

 

“Are you sure?” he asks, taking another drink of his beer. Apolo sighs, rubbing his face before turning back around.

 

“I’m fairly sure, Nathan. I was there when they awarded the medals. I didn’t get one. I can see you’re having fun tonight though,” he says crossing his arms over his chest. Nathan is young, but not that young. At 19 almost 20, Apolo is not about to try and lecture Nathan about drinking responsibly. He’s at the Olympics. He’s a Gold medalist. Let him have his fun. Nathan grins at him, nodding his head.

 

“We’re celebrating! The swimming events are OVER. Well almost over. The marathon swimmers go on Thursday, and there’s the synchronized swimmers of course, and you divers aren’t done yet. But we are!” Nathan says with a cheer.

 

“It’s Tuesday. I thought you guys finished on Sunday?” Apolo asks, genuinely confused.

 

“Oh we did. But they made Michael leave like the next morning to go to London, to see the groundbreaking, and he came straight back here. So NOW we get to party with the rock star of the swimming world himself. He’s amazing. He won 8 gold medals. Did you know that?” Nathan asks, listing slightly to the side. Apolo rushes over to help Nathan stay upright, leaning him against the wall more fully.

 

“Yes, I knew that,” Apolo says. He looks out into the hallway, hoping to find someone to pass Nathan off onto. But everyone seems completely absorbed in the dancing they’re doing, or the conversations they’re having. He ducks back inside. Nathan grins at him again.

 

“But he’s not the only one you know! I won a gold medal too. You wanna come see it? I have it in my room. No wait. I don’t have it because my mom took it. She didn’t trust me with it! Can you believe that?! She took it home to Washington with her. My family couldn’t stay. They only came to watch me swim. But then they had to go home. I get to stay through the end of closing ceremonies though because my room and board are free. Did your dad come? Of course he came! You have the best dad in the whole world. Well maybe second best. Because my dad is pretty freakin’ awesome! Are you hungry?” Nathan rambles. “Man, I’m starving!” Apolo’s jaw drops. That had actually been largely coherent. He’s kind of impressed. Nathan lurches away from the open doorway, and Apolo, worried about the younger man, chases after him, pulling his door shut behind them. He follows Nathan’s wavering gate back down the hallway and into one of the bigger suites, whose door has been left propped open.

 

“Come on! They have food. Don’t worry I think they’ll share with you even though you aren’t a swimmer. Well you’re a swimmer but not like a real swimmer. At least not anymore. Not that I don’t like you because of that. I like you fine. You’re kind of cool, even if that thing on your chin is kind of stupid. But the guys seem to like you. I think we can get them to share their food with you. HI!” he says suddenly loud. An equally loud “HI!” is shot back at them from the half full suite. Apolo blinks looking at the mass of people. He’s fairly sure all of USA swimming is accounted for between the hallway and the contents of this one room, but there are other swimmers too. Apolo doesn’t know all of their names, but he recognizes a few of the Aussies, a few of the French.

 

A tall brunette with wide a smile climbs to his feet. He walks over stumbling just a little, and grins hugely at them.

 

“Oy, Nathan you are smashed!” he cries with a clearly identifiable Australian accent. “Did you find him wandering about?” he asks Apolo. Apolo nods unsure how best to respond. “Hey, you’re not a swimmer!” the man says. He points a finger at Apolo like he’s a criminal guilty of trespassing. Apolo blinks at him.

 

“Calm down, Eamon!” a voice says, tossing an arm around the Aussies shoulders. It’s Michael Phelps. The tall brunette (Eamon, Apolo presumes) wheels away.

 

“Don’t touch me! You stole my girlfriend. I don’t like you!” Eamon says, pulling free of Michael’s grip. Michael rolls his eyes.

 

“Steph came on to me. I told her no. Don’t start up again with that. It’s not my fault she broke up with you,” Michael says. He holds out a freshly opened beer. “Here, have a beer on me!” he says. Eamon takes the beer, grinning widely.

 

“You’re a right good bloke, you are!” he says, turning around and wandering off again. Michael rolls his eyes looking back at Apolo, and Nathan, who at this point was drooped over on Apolo’s much too short shoulder, half asleep.

 

“He is completely plastered!” Apolo explains. Michael nods, pulling another beer out of nowhere and taking a gulp.

 

“That he is. Poor kid can’t hold his alcohol,” Michael says like that explains everything. Apolo nods.

 

“He’s only 19. Do you know who he is rooming with? I want to get him safely into his dorm before he passes out completely.” Michael seems to think a moment. He nods.

 

“Yeah, I think they had him in with Ricky Berens. Hold on,” he turns around, disappearing into the mass of bodies. He’s back a minute later, dragging another man behind him. “Ricky this is Apolo. Apolo this is Ricky. He’s Nathan’s roommate.”

 

“Wow! He really is drunk!” Ricky says laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

 

“Do you have your key?” Apolo asks. Ricky nods.

 

“Come on we’ll help you get him to his room,” Mike says, he stoops down, pulling one of Nathan’s arms up over his shoulder. Apolo adjusts his grip on Nathan’s other side, but it’s too imbalanced. He’s too much shorter than Michael and Nathan.

 

“Hey, Frodo, let me handle this,” Ricky says, squeezing himself between Apolo and Nathan, and pulling Nathan’s other arm over his own shoulder. He hands his keys to Apolo. “Here you can get the door. Room 715.” Apolo frowns over the Frodo remark but nods.

 

They wind their way out of the room, and back up the hallway closer to the elevators. Apolo finds the room and uses Ricky’s key to get it unlocked. He holds the door open as Michael and Ricky practically drag a now giggling Nathan inside. They dump him on his bed, where he continues to giggle, half on and half off the mattress. Apolo helps Michael drag his legs up onto the bed, and then sighs, flopping to sit beside him on the mattress.

 

“Hey, Apolo, it’s ok. It’s ok that you didn’t win. Because you’re still awesome!” Nathan says loudly. Apolo sighs, rubbing his face again, and standing up off the bed.

 

“Go to sleep, Nathan,” Apolo says, heading for the door.

 

“You’re not going to stay with him?” Ricky asks. Apolo eyes him with amusement.

 

“He’s not my roommate. If you think I’m going to hang out here and watch him so that you can go back out and party some more you’re gonna think again. I’m tired. My Olympics aren’t over yet. I have practice tomorrow, and I just got home from a final. I’m going to my room to sleep. I can’t be up all night keeping Nathan from wandering the halls, or puking on himself. Congrats. That’s now your job,” he says. He heads for the door. Ricky pouts turning to Michael.

 

“Mike?” he whines quietly. Mike shakes his head laughing loudly in response.

 

“Dude, this is a party they held up so that I could attend. No way!” he says following Apolo to the door. Ricky sighs loudly, flinging himself back on to his own bed.

 

The door closes on Nathan’s groaning call for a trashcan. Apolo shakes his head, looking at Michael with amused eyes.

 

“He’s so going to hate beer in the morning,” Apolo says. Michael nods laughing.

 

“It’ll probably be his first hangover too,” Michael adds. Apolo nods.

 

“Thanks for helping me get him back here. Oh and congratulations. You did an amazing thing here with the 8 medals,” Apolo adds. Michael smiles, a bit sheepishly. “Who’d have thought little Michael Phelps would become the most decorated Olympian of all time?” Mike laughs.

 

“Hey you’re not that much older than me. And don’t kid yourself. I used to beat you all the time, back when you were a real swimmer!” Mike teases. Apolo shakes his head, heading back down the hallway to his own room.

 

“Yeah, yeah. You know I still am a real swimmer. I just don’t compete anymore,” Apolo says opening his door. Mike follows him inside, closing the door.

 

“Really? You still swim the fly?” he asks. Apolo shakes his head. He goes to Teddy’s bed, sorting through the stuff he’d dumped out earlier.

 

“Not anymore. I’m more of a freestyler, breast stroke kind of guy now…” he says. Michael makes a face.

 

“But why? Fly was your thing! We had that in common. It’s what made it so much fun to compete against you in it!” Mike says sitting down on the end of Apolo’s bed. Apolo shrugs, separating out his damp briefs, and tossing them in the corner, and dumping the half empty water bottle into the trash can.

 

“Dislocated my shoulder in 05. It’s all healed up now but it makes the Fly painful as hell to do. That and the back,” he shakes his head. “No way. Not anymore.” Michael makes a face in sympathy.

 

“That really sucks. But how have you been doing, with the diving thing? We haven’t talked in ages. And well I’ve kind of been preoccupied the last week and a half or so…” Apolo laughs in response sitting down on Teddy’s bed facing Mike.

 

“Ok in general. Made the Olympic team. Which is a lot harder for a diver than for the swim team, no offense,” he says. Mike waves it away.

 

“Nah you’re right. There’s a lot more people trying out for the swim spots, but there are more of them to go around, so…” he shrugs. Apolo nods.

 

“Exactly. As for here,” Apolo sighs. “I’m not doing how I’d like to be but I’m doing ok,” he replies. Mike frowns.

 

“I know you medaled last week…” he trails off. Apolo nods.

 

“Bronze for the synchronized platform. But that was followed by 8th AKA last place, in the synchronized springboard, and 4th in individual springboard.” He makes a face, and it’s echoed by Michael.

 

“Aww man 4th place sucks ass, I hate when that happens. Congrats on the bronze though,” Michael offers. Apolo shakes his head.

 

“That was mostly luck to be honest,” Apolo admits. “We barely beat the fourth place finisher. If you asked the judges to look back on that day and pick the winners again they’d have put us off the podium, believe me.”

 

“So you’re not done yet?” Mike asks.

 

“Nope. I have another prelim on Friday, and hopefully the semi and final on Saturday for the 10m platform, which is my best event. I’m hoping to do better then.”

 

“So you have the next two days off?” Mike asks standing up from the bed. Apolo shrugs and sort of half-nods.

 

“Well, when I’m not practicing,” he says. Mike grins.

 

“Then come join the party,” he offers. Apolo sighs shaking his head.

  
“I can’t do that man. You know what it takes to get ready to compete. It’s half mental and half physical. I am not about to get drunk and lose control of either one of the two.” Michael sighs, looking disappointed.

 

“Can I go get you something?” he asks. Apolo frowns.

 

“What would you go to get me?” he asks in return. Michael smiles.

 

“Just hold your horses. Give me five minutes. I’ll be right back. Just don’t go anywhere. Ok?” he says moving for the door. Apolo watches him leave in confusion. But he doesn’t stop him. When the door closes behind Michael, Apolo’s not really expecting him to come back. So he jumps a little when almost five minutes later there is a knock on the door. Apolo opens it, letting Michael back in. He has two bottles of beer, and a plate loaded with pizza and fruit. Apolo’s mouth starts to water at the smell pouring off the melted cheese. Michael waves it under his nose.

 

“A present for you!” he says with a grin. Apolo takes the plate eagerly, going to sit at the head of his bed. Michael follows him over, watching him climb up to rest against the headboard and pick up the piece of pizza.

 

“How’d you know I was craving this so bad?” Apolo asks around a big bite. Mike laughs.

 

“We’re all on the USA swim team. We’ve all been craving it!” Mike says with a laugh. He holds out an open beer. “Here you can have one. That’ll let you loosen up without losing your head, or getting hung over,” he reasons. Apolo takes the cold bottle, sucking down a gulp.

 

“You’re gonna make me fat before Friday,” Apolo says with a laugh. Mike shakes his head.

 

“Nah, you’ll be fine,” he says with another smile, eyeing Apolo up and down. Apolo fights a blush and takes another bite of pizza. He watches Michael watch him chew and smiles.

 

“Thanks. But you don’t have to stay in here with me. You have 8 Gold Medals worth of celebrating to do out there,” Apolo motions toward the door with his beer bottle. Michael shrugs.

 

“Right about now it’s all going to start degenerating into one big orgy again, and I’m just totally not in the mood for that right now,” Michael says totally deadpan. Apolo throws his head back to laugh.

 

“Remembering Athens are we?” he asks. Michael flushes red and laughs.

 

“Damn but those Greeks liked to party. And their beer was fucking strong. I’ve never seen so many people screwing in the dorm hallways before. No wonder Bob wouldn’t let me stay in the dorms after the swimming was over in Sydney…” Apolo laughs. Something was happening here and he isn’t quite sure whether he wants to stop it or keep it going.

 

“You’d have been scarred for life,” he says with a grin. Michael nods.

 

“Totally ruined for any kind of sexual interaction forever after that,” Mike says quietly with a small smile. Apolo takes one last drink of his beer, setting the still half full plate and empty bottle down on the bedside table.

 

“Well it’s probably a good thing Bob was so protective. Who knows how kinky you would have turned out if he hadn’t,” Apolo says teasingly. Mike leans forward to grin at Apolo.

 

“Oh I turned out plenty kinky anyway,” Mike says back. Apolo laughs, throwing his head back with mirth.

 

“Are we really going to do this? I thought last time was a onetime deal?” he asks. Mike shrugs.

 

“Maybe we should make it a onetime deal each Olympics?” Mike suggests. “I remember it being plenty good last time, and I’ve learned some new tricks in the last four years.” Apolo laughs but shakes his head.

 

“That sounds,” Apolo closes his eyes. “Amazing… But like I said... I’m not done until Saturday,” he explains. Michael looks at him still grinning.

 

“You have 72 hours to recover, and I promise to be gentle,” he says leaning forward to press his mouth to Apolo’s. Apolo gasps, sinking back into the pillows behind him. Michael crawls closer, straddling Apolo’s thighs, and bending down over him. One of his hands sinks into Apolo’s hair, tugging the smaller man’s head up and in to meet his more firmly. His mouth opens to Apolo’s and Apolo presses up against him, hands pulling Michael closer by his t-shirt. Michael tugs at Apolo’s, breaking the kiss to tug it off of Apolo’s body. As soon as his arms are free, Apolo reaches for Michael again, leaning up to take Michael’s mouth with his. This time the kiss is more aggressive. Apolo bites at Michaels lips, licking into his mouth. Michael grins, pressing his mouth to Apolo’s just as hungrily.

 

Apolo’s hands slide under the soft fabric of Michael’s t-shirt, sliding up and across tight abs. He groans a little pulling his mouth free of Michael’s to moan out loud. Michael has always been fit, for as long as Apolo’s known him, but his muscles have never been this defined before. Suddenly Apolo wants to see them, lick across them. He sits up, pressing both his hands to Michael’s chest, pushing him back. But Michael resists long enough to pull his own shirt up and off. He tosses it to the dorm room floor to join Apolo’s, before letting himself be pushed backward to lay sprawled across the lower half of the bed. Apolo follows him, crawling over to straddle Michael’s lean hips. Bracing himself with his arms, he leans down over the younger man to kiss down Michael’s neck. Michael hisses at the drag of teeth across his throat and presses up with his hips. Apolo hums, kissing down the long cords of muscle to follow the dips and curves of Michael’s clavicle. He keeps kissing down the center of Michael’s chest. Across thick pecks, shaved smooth and hairless. Apolo pauses there, pulling back to look down at Michael’s abs. They stand out in stark relief along his abdomen, tight and hard, and clearly defined. Apolo can’t help himself. He licks down between them, tracing the ridges and edges of each individual muscle. Michael pants, his ribcage expanding and contracting with each short breath of air. He makes a whining sound, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Apolo’s head. He tightens his fingers in the hair there, tugging. 

 

Apolo laughs and scrapes his teeth at the smooth skin under Michael’s belly button. He lets himself be pushed down to the flat of Michael’s belly, kissing and exploring until he reaches the low hanging top of Mike’s pants. There he stops, pulling out of Michael’s grip. He leans away, reaching down to unbutton Mike’s cargo pants. He unzips them, tugging them down off Michael’s hips and butt. He leaves them there around Michael’s thighs, to reach for his underwear. Michael’s wearing boxer briefs, and Apolo pulls them down slowly.

 

He watches the pale skin where Michael’s Speedo had kept his tan from continuing down appear inch by inch. He licks across the line there, nipping at the Olympic Rings on Michael’s right hip. Michael flexes his thighs, pressing his hip up into Apolo’s mouth. Apolo laughs pulling back again. He tugs the underwear down further, Mike’s dick appearing like a prize. It’s long and thin just like Michael, with a slight curve to the right that makes Apolo’s mouth water a little bit. It only takes a few pulls to get Michael’s underwear and pants down and off his long legs. Mike, eager to help, sits up before Apolo can climb back up onto his hips. Instead Mike starts pushing at Apolo’s gym shorts, tugging them and his underwear down over the curve of Apolo’s ass. He urges Apolo back, helps to pull them down and off. Mike’s hands move eagerly to grip Apolo by the thighs.

 

“Jesus! Where did you get these things? These are not normal thighs for a swimmer or a diver!” Michael says staring down at them. Apolo pulls the shorts off his ankles, balancing on his knees and grinning down at him.

 

“I’ve always had them. They’re not new…” he says, pushing Michael to lie back down. He straddles Michael’s thighs, and braces his hands against Michael’s abs.

 

“I know that! I remember them from Athens, I remember them from when we were kids. But fuck, Apolo, I just want to bite them!” Michael says, finally tearing his eyes away from them to look up at Apolo’s face. Apolo’s laughing at him and Mike smiles in reply. Apolo rolls his eyes.

 

“I cross-train. Running. Biking. But I think it’s the inline skating that does it. I’ve been doing that since just after I started swimming as a kid. I don’t compete anymore but I still love to do it a couple times a week. My swim coach used to think it was how I had such a great dolphin kick,” he says. Mike stares up at him. He shakes his head.

 

“You are so strange…” he says softly. Apolo laughs, scooting backward until he’s sitting low across Michael’s thighs.

 

“You don’t understand cross-training because Bob won’t let you do any of the fun stuff. You and those ankles..” he says smiling. Michael rolls his eyes.

 

“Are we going to continue talking about my weirdly flexible extremities or are we going to have some fun?” Michael teases. Apolo laughs, climbing back up Michael’s body to kiss his mouth in answer.

 

 

Apolo is a master of self-control. When he wants to he can focus so completely on what he’s doing that nothing else matters. He has nothing to fear at the Olympics. He’s gone twice before. And never has he been so strongly favored to win. But that brings it’s own kind of pressure. He and JR have done amazingly well this season. Winning the majority of their synchronized platform competitions. They’re heavily favored to take gold at the London games, and they’re going into the finals with highest semifinal score for a US Men’s pair at a diving event. Their list of dives is solid, and they’ve been nailing them all season. So there is absolutely no reason for Apolo to be hyperventilating, 5 minutes before they’re scheduled to start the competition. It takes a minute for JR to realize what is happening, and to drag him back into the locker room. Usually it’s him having the panic attack and Apolo doing the taking care of. Apolo is bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, taking quick short breaths and panicking all over the place.

 

JR pulls him up into a vertical position. Grasping the sides of Apolo’s face with both his hands, he pulls his head up so that their eyes meet. JR presses close, resting his forehead against Apolo.

 

“Breathe,” he says calmly. He tries to keep his voice soothing, and Apolo looks up at him with wild eyes. “Calm down,” JR says gently. “You’re ok. Just breathe.” Apolo trembles against him.

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t go out there,” he gasps. JR fights the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Yes you can. You’ve been training for this for your whole life. We’ve been training for this together for three years. We are ready for this.” Apolo shakes his head.

 

“I’m not ready. This is it, JR. The last time. My last Olympics. My last chance. I can’t do this!” he says urgently. JR laughs lightly, leaning forward to press his mouth to Apolo’s. He backs him into a bare wall, heedless of the other divers in the locker room, of the cat calls and hoots of laughter. Breaking the kiss he stays close.

 

“You’re the strongest most dedicated person I know, Apolo. You are ready for this. You can do this. I’m right here. It’s just a competition remember?” he asks. Apolo laughs, seemingly calmer.

 

“What if we don’t win?” he asks quietly, sliding his arms around JR’s waist. JR smiles at him.

 

“Then we don’t win. But we’ll do our best, give it all we’ve got, and leave with no regrets. You and me, Apolo, we’re the best synchronized divers in the world. We just have to go out there and prove it. But together we have got this.” JR nods as he says it. Apolo takes a deep breath and smiles. He tugs JR closer for a second kiss and when that one breaks pulls his head away to look at him.

 

“When did we switch roles? For three years I’ve been the one giving you pre-dive pep talks…” he asks. JR grins.

“I guess now that we’re finally really truly equals, we get to trade off. I tell you what. You give me the pep talk before the springboard final, and I’ll give you one before you dive on platform singles, and you can do me before springboard singles. Sound like a plan?” he asks. Apolo throws his head back and laughs.

 

“Yeah. That sounds like a pretty great plan actually,” he says in agreement.

 

“Good. Then it’s settled. Ready to go win now?” JR asks. Apolo nods. He leans up to press one last kiss to JR’s mouth before pulling away.

 

“As I’ll ever be…” he says taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders and heading for the door leading back out to the pool deck. JR smirks and follows.

 

A few hours later Apolo discovers that Gold feels just as perfect around his neck as he’d always imagined. Especially when he can reach over and feel the weight of the identical one hanging around JR’s neck and know they did it together.

 

The End


End file.
